


To Live, To Love, To Grow

by BeyondTheClouds777



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Late Night Conversations, Literal Sleeping Together, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Sokka (Avatar), Queerplatonic Relationships, Queerplatonic Zukka, Soft Kiddos, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, sokka's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24976279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeyondTheClouds777/pseuds/BeyondTheClouds777
Summary: Zuko sleeps a lot.
Relationships: Iroh & Sokka (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 561





	To Live, To Love, To Grow

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write qp zukka _forever_ now and i've finally got around to it!! they make me so happy, i love them so incredibly much.

Zuko sleeps a lot.

Sokka doesn’t think to ponder it for a span of reasons: he doesn’t mind when Zuko falls asleep on top of him, he’s usually distracted with something else anyway, and it happens so naturally that it seems. Well.  _ Natural.  _ Not to mention what a relief it is, to see Zuko sleep—he’s the sort of person who constantly looks like he needs it.

So Zuko sleeps a lot. And Sokka is glad he’s able to. But he doesn’t think about it— _ really  _ think about it—until one night in particular, studying together at Zuko’s and Iroh’s apartment.

He was invited over there to study; Zuko can usually keep up with his classes, but this subject isn’t his strongest and Sokka had offered to help him through some classwork. But Sokka managed to get the timing wrong and landed himself on their doorstep while Iroh was out working and Zuko was at therapy. 

It’s happened often enough that he’s resigned to it—like a kid missing the school bus one too many times. Zuko is bound to be here soon if the previous incidents are anything to go by. Sokka lets himself in with the spare key Iroh gave him a while back and spends the next hour reclined on the couch, skimming textbooks and comparing today’s notes with yesterday’s.

Sokka is  _ this close  _ to an epiphany when the door clicks and in comes Zuko. Sokka lifts his head and has Zuko all figured out in mere moments: he’s tired, an exhaustion that runs deep beneath anything physical. A  _ familiar  _ exhaustion, unfortunately, but that at least means Sokka knows what to do.

“Rough day.” Sokka doesn’t need to ask, but not saying anything doesn’t seem right, either, even though Zuko would understand. Zuko nods, tugging off his shoes and sliding his schoolbag off his shoulder in the same motion. He locks the door last, and his hand trembles, and. Yeah. ‘Rough’ was probably putting it too nicely.

Wordlessly, Sokka lifts his arms, and Zuko needs no further encouragement before he’s across the room and collapsing facedown onto his chest. Sokka shifts to accommodate, so out of habit that it’s barely a thought at all. Zuko is warm, boneless and smells like stale coffee, and although the tension has drained from his shoulders, it manifests elsewhere, in the hitch of his breath or the slight way his hands tremble. Sokka stuffs down the questions he wants to ask; if Zuko wants to share, he’ll share.

For now, Sokka settles his arms over Zuko and keeps reading like nothing changed. Zuko’s breathing eventually becomes something steadier, the shallow wheeze gone, and Sokka breathes deeper with him.

“Hey,” he says, quiet enough just in case Zuko has already fallen asleep. 

“Hi.” He has not. His voice is muffled in Sokka’s shoulder.

“Welcome home.”

“Thanks.” Still muffled. Zuko doesn’t even open his eyes. “How long have you been here?”

“Eh, maybe an hour? So not long.” Absently, Sokka runs his fingers through Zuko’s hair, re-reading the paragraph when he’d stopped paying attention. Zuko sinks into him further. “Uncle Iroh said he’d be home in a few hours, he’s bringing takeout.”

Zuko hums. Sokka tries to slog through the next paragraph, but finds himself lost in thought and focusing  _ way  _ too much on the way Zuko’s hair slips between his fingers, or the fact that he can feel Zuko’s heartbeat up against his own, or that Zuko’s breath has finally lost its shudder. That’s the only tricky thing about studying with Zuko: as much as he loves studying, he’ll always love Zuko more.

This is usually the point where Zuko conks out and Sokka keeps reading until he wakes up again, but Sokka is feeling oddly sentimental this time, so naturally the first thing that comes to mind is, “You sure do sleep a lot.”

Zuko mumbles an indignant  _ I-don’t-care  _ sort of sound into his chest, and Sokka chortles. Zuko always was like that, scoffing and indignant with eyerolls his heart wasn’t behind. Their affection toward each other manifests differently, but in ways each other can understand. Sokka goes back to the textbook and doesn’t think much else of it.

Or, he doesn’t, until Zuko weighs heavier against him as his breaths finish evening out, and Sokka finds himself stuck in the middle of that same paragraph once more.

Zuko  _ does  _ sleep a lot.

In the days following the initial joke-turned-realization, Sokka finds himself noticing a lot more. Sometimes when they’re sitting next to each other, Zuko leans into Sokka’s side and is out like a light. Other times it’s this scenario again, and they’re on the couch while Sokka studies and Zuko recovers. Things haven’t changed—their routines and habits are the same—only now Sokka is aware of it, and more worried than he knows Zuko would want him to be. It does make sense for him to sleep a lot, because Zuko has a lot going on, and it isn’t that Sokka  _ minds  _ Zuko sleeping on top of him, and he’s  _ glad  _ to see Zuko rest, but it does worry him. Zuko just. Falls asleep on him. Sometimes because he’s had a bad day, sometimes for no reason other than he wants to.

Sokka doesn’t mind, of course. But now that he’s noticed it, the thought won’t leave him alone.

“He fell asleep studying again,” Sokka murmurs, making his way from Zuko’s bedroom and sinking down on the living room couch instead. Iroh is bustling about quietly in the kitchen, quieter now after Sokka’s revelation, and he silences the kettle just as soon as it whistles. “He  _ seriously  _ needs to learn how to take a break.”

Iroh’s chuckle is gentle, and when he brings Sokka a steaming mug of tea, Sokka thanks him and Iroh sits across from him on the couch. “He’s the kind of person who thinks he has something to prove,” Iroh says. “I’m sure someday he’ll understand, but for now it’s just a matter of patience and reminding him to rest when he neglects himself.”

“He’s been doing better lately, though.” Sokka takes a sip of tea (gods, it’s  _ perfect,  _ Iroh turns him into a smitten tea person just as long as it takes to drain a mug), then taps the edge of the handle with his thumb while he thinks. “He’s been taking more breaks. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been  _ around  _ him more since we started—”

He realizes, he and Zuko haven’t told Iroh about what they’ve ‘started.’ They’ve talked about it with  _ each other,  _ sort of, but Zuko said he didn’t want to label anything yet,that things were still too new and he was still struggling with baggage from his past, and Sokka respected that. As long as Zuko was happy, he didn’t really care about labels or if they ever even became partners.

“Y’know, since we’ve been closer,” Sokka settles on, because it’s true.

Iroh seems to understand at least the gist of it, and his nod encourages Sokka to continue.

“But yeah, he seems to be doing okay?” Another sip of tea, shorter and non-committal, distracted. “It’s hard to tell. But, I do think he’s getting better at taking care of himself.”

“I’m glad.” Iroh takes a sip of his tea, too, a longer draw than Sokka’s but equally distracted. “You’ve been a good influence on him, Sokka. I’m sure he hasn’t said it out loud just yet, but he has a great deal of love and respect for you.”

Sokka cracks a soft smile, looking down at the mug. “Well, I guess he doesn’t  _ have  _ to say it,” he says. “The guy’s never been huge on words, but I see it. I have a lot of love and respect for him, too.”

Iroh’s smile is gentle, sincere, and… maybe just a little bit sad. “You don’t have to tell him I said this,” Iroh murmurs, “but he was…  _ different, _ before meeting you and the others. I don’t know how much he’s told you of his past, if anything…” 

“Not a lot,” Sokka admits, holding the mug just a little tighter “He said he’d be ready to tell me someday, but not yet. Which I totally get. He doesn’t have to tell me anything he doesn’t want to tell me.” As much as Sokka  _ wishes  _ he would, sometimes, and as badly as he wants to know, he understands and respects it. If Zuko isn’t comfortable with sharing, then Sokka doesn’t want him to.

Iroh nods. “It’s his story to tell and I would like to keep it that way,,” Iroh says, “but he’s been dealt a heavy hand, especially for someone so young. He’s had to fight and struggle to get as far as he has.”

The guilt in Iroh’s voice is hard to miss, even if Sokka doesn’t have the context for it. “You’re a good influence on him too.” Sokka holds Iroh’s gaze and keeps his voice steady. “He talks about you all the time. About how much your support has meant to him.”

Iroh chuckles, a bit hoarse. “Well, that is very kind of him to say.” Sokka wouldn’t notice if he hadn’t been looking for it, but his voice isn’t as weary as before. “But you’ve had just as big an impact on him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sleep this soundly before, and sleep has always been his biggest struggle.”

Sokka’s head snaps up and his eyes find Iroh’s again. “Really? He has a hard time sleeping?”

“Up until recently, yes.” Iroh nods, solemn. “We tried an entire onslaught of sleep-aid, sleep-therapy and medications, but the most it did was disappoint and frustrate him. He doesn’t often feel…” Iroh pauses, stirring his tea slowly. “... Safe. He’s always slept with one eye open. Or, at least.” At this, Iroh smiles, and it’s one of the wider, lighter ones that Sokka knows him by. “Until recently, that is.”

“Right.” Sokka’s mind buzzes, thrumming against his cranium in tandem with his heartbeat. Zuko sleeps a  _ lot— _ leaning into Sokka’s shoulder, curled into Sokka’s side,  _ on top  _ of Sokka… does Zuko feel  _ that safe  _ with him? Zuko deserves to feel safe all the time, and it isn’t fair that he hasn’t felt safe enough to sleep comfortably in so long but— “Is Zuko happy, do you think?”

Iroh gives him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve known him all his life,” Sokka says, squeezing his mug. “Do you really think he… feels safer now than back then?” (He doesn’t know what back then means, but he doesn’t need to know to ask.) “Is he happy?”

When he first met Zuko—and even now sometimes, on bad days—he’d been a standoff-ish combination of proud and ashamed, but more than anything he’d hit Sokka as someone who was very sad, but sad in a way he didn’t know how to cope with, so the sadness manifested through other things. Distrust, anger, isolation; in hindsight, shields in an attempt to not be hurt again, but at the time Sokka didn’t know Zuko as well and thought it was just how he was and not the byproduct of a deeper pain. He sees that Zuko now, sometimes, and he always makes himself available for comfort if that’s what Zuko needs, but overall, Zuko nowadays is lighter, more relaxed, more  _ himself.  _ He’s the sweetest, most awkward, huggable dork Sokka knows and Sokka would do anything for him.

“I think,” Iroh says, “he’s healing and growing in himself as a person. In that sense, I do think he’s happier. Happier than he’s been in a very, very long time.”

* * *

Zuko is still sleeping when Sokka makes his way back to the bedroom. He’s exactly where Sokka left him: facedown, face in a pillow, hair sprawled and tangled, his arms tucked under his head. Iroh’s words echo in Sokka’s head once more. Those deep, dark circles under Zuko’s eyes are lesser than they have been, and he didn’t bolt upright at the sound of Sokka entering the bedroom, or jump at his footsteps as he approaches the bed.

Sokka doesn’t know the Zuko of before, the Zuko that endured those unspeakable things from where Iroh’s guilt stemmed, a Zuko that was alone. But he knows Zuko now—the Zuko that is very much not alone, with a plethora of good things ahead for him. And, Zuko knows he isn’t alone now, too. That’s a recent change, and a welcomed one.

Sokka sinks down beside him, careful not to jostle the bed too much, but his efforts are fruitless. Zuko rolls over, his arms snake around Sokka’s waist securely and just like that, Sokka knows where he’ll be staying tonight. He texts Iroh with a picture and gets a thumbs-up in response, which would make him laugh if he weren’t concerned about waking Zuko. He silences his phone, tosses their textbooks, notebooks and pencils onto the desk, and then finally reaches over to click off the lamp. The darkness is welcomed. He runs his hand through Zuko’s hair again and his chest is warm, and he’s warm, and he’s happy because Zuko is happy, and relaxed because Zuko is relaxed, and for now that’s all that matters.

So he's in love. Big deal. There are worse things he could be in; like debt.


End file.
